


As of Now I'm Down Straight Up

by MusicalSense



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: Blood and Injury, M/M, Mosh Pits, Warped Tour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-18 18:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalSense/pseuds/MusicalSense
Summary: "He’s on his back again and this time he’s not looking at the sky; he’s looking right into the surprisingly blue eyes of Bert McCracken who just chokeslammed him into the ground and is now standing above him with his feet planted left and right of Gerard’s hips." Hallelujah.





	As of Now I'm Down Straight Up

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU Bert and Gerard didn't meet prior to warped tour and neither Three Cheers nor In Love And Death are out yet so technically it should be set in 2003, but like, the timelines don't really matter for this one. Inspired by an interview with MCR where Gerard talked about Bert chokeslamming a kid who got up on stage during their set.
> 
> Title from the song 'Choke Me' by The Used.

There’s blood in Gerard’s mouth and he’s not sure if it’s his own. He runs the tip of his tongue over his aching front teeth and turns around to see if whoever headbutted him got away unscathed. He definitely felt his teeth slice through… something, which is kind of worrying since they are freakishly small and that means that he had a mouthful of some stranger which is… all a little unsanitary, isn’t it?  
A guy with a bloody nose bumps into him and Gerard gets a face full of Eau de Sweaty Armpit. He chokes a little and ducks and shoves – his go-to move in the pit – to keep Tall and Sweaty at a safe distance and then brushes his greasy hair out of his face. He’s standing at the edge of the mosh pit at Warped, probably too close to the speakers given his bad ear, but right now he does not care even in the slightest. He can feel each beat of the kick drum resonating in his bones and his heart is racing along with the music as the song crescendos and comes to a crashing, slightly off-key end. He will definitely have to incorporate something like that into their next record, he thinks.

“The next song is called ‘A Box Full Of Sharp Objects’.” Announces Bert McCracken. He looks good today, Gerard thinks. Really good. Sure, he’s just as sweaty as Gerard is, but the way his wet tangled hair looks with the red makeup smudges on his cheek and the manic glint in his eyes… Gerard gulps. Perhaps he does have a thing for boys who look like they would beat him up without hesitating and make out with him afterwards.

“Marry me!” Tall and Sweaty hollers next to him with the fervor and timbre of a frat bro after his sixth bear of the night. Gerard winces. Yeah, his hearing is definitely not going to improve anytime soon. Maybe he should start wearing the second in ear monitor too; he thinks he might be developing a tinnitus.

“Who, me?” Bert asks with wide eyes and an even wider grin on his face. He presses a hand to his chest in mock-surprise. Gerard’s not entirely sure but he thinks Bert’s wearing white nail polish on the left and black on the right hand. He wonders if it’s a Queen reference.

“Fuck yeah!” Tall and Sweaty yells. Gerard twitches. How did that guy even manage to keep his baseball cap in the pit? He’s pretty sure that he himself lost one or two pins and maybe his belt to the crowd.

Bert wags his eyebrows. “We’ll see about that later.” He turns to his bassist and giggles in that weird high pitched way of his. “Looks like I’ve got a date tonight, Jepha.”

Fuck. Fucking fuck. Why can’t Gerard be a sweaty frat bro? Sure, his Gran always told him to worry less and just ask for things because really, what could happen besides him getting rejected? But somehow he didn’t think that her advice would be applicable in this situation and yet… Oh god, she’d be laughing so hard if she could see him right now, thrashing wildly with the crowd at a The Used show mere hours before he had to be on stage himself just because he thought the singer was kind of cute and wanted to check him out live.  
The band launches into the next song, kicking Gerard back into action. He shakes his head a little and allows himself a small smile. So what if he has a tiny man-crush on another singer, he can still have a good time. He looks around quickly to check for people who look like they wouldn’t appreciate him throwing himself in their midst and when he doesn’t find any, he dives straight back into the pit.

God, he loves this so fucking much. The hot press of bodies around him, the elbows connecting with his ribs, even the feeling of sweaty skin sticking and unsticking from his. For a while he loses himself in the push and pull of it, careful to keep his head down so he doesn’t get hit in the face. Somehow he seems to be just the right height for that, not big enough to really stand his ground and not quite small enough to weave through the crowd like Frank does either.  
He feels someone pulling on the white stage shirt he’s wearing because it was the only semi-clean thing in his wardrobe after touring for a while. Somehow his stage clothes are always taken care of while his normal t shirts decompose in a smelly pile in a corner of their bus. Right now though, his last good shirt is dotted with small red blood splatters and he briefly worries about the state of his face which seems to be one big dull ache right now. He really hopes that the blood isn’t his; having to sing with a broken nose would suck balls.

His gaze connects with a short-ish dude with a bloody bitemark on his jaw and a bright grin. For a split second Gerard recognizes him as the person whose face he hit his teeth on but then he’s being hoisted up and carried on top of the crowd.  
He takes in a gasping breath and blinks up at the almost cartoonishly blue sky for a few moments. Sure, he’s crowdsurfed before, but usually inside smaller clubs and never at Warped where the audience looks like a boiling kettle full of rage and drunk scene kids.  
Maybe he should reconsider though, he thinks idly as he’s being carried away from the pit. Someone’s jewelry catches on his hair and the buttons of his shirt and he tries to keep his feet still so he doesn’t kick anyone in the head and there’s sky around him and the wavelike movement of the crowd under him, and he thinks maybe this is what it feels like to drift in the ocean during a storm, and then he’s being hoisted on stage.

‘Oh fuck’ He thinks.  
“Oh fuck.” He says.  
While no one’s technically going to kick him out for it he is technically also not supposed to be here and it’s taken him too long already; he should be jumping back right now; he’s seen other people do it and they always got away with it as long as they didn’t disturb the set, and he turns around and then someone grabs his throat and slams him to the ground and.  
Holy Shit.

He’s on his back again and this time he’s not looking at the sky; he’s looking right into the surprisingly blue eyes of Bert McCracken who just chokeslammed him into the ground and is now standing above him with his feet planted left and right of Gerard’s hips.

Actually, maybe he hit his head harder than he thought. He’s feeling a little faint right now. Bert’s hand is still around his throat. Gerard tries to swallow and chokes on his spit. He feels his pulse beating away frantically, even faster than the music now, and he wonders if Bert can feel it. The moment seems to stretch like the string of a bow being pulled back and Gerard worries that if he makes one wrong move he’s going to make it snap and hit him in the face.

  
Fucking hell. He’s going to die here. Above him Bert grins with all of his teeth and mouths along to the final chorus as the crowd goes wild. He locks eyes with Gerard and winks and then he. He licks his hand, from palm to fingertips, and wipes it on Gerard’s face and suddenly he’s painfully hard in his jeans. There’s sweat dripping down from Bert’s hair and his teeth still ache and he still can’t breathe properly and he thinks he just fell in love. He’s dying but man, what a way to go.

Bert, who doesn’t seem to have picked up on Gerard’s epiphany, gets up from his crouch and gets back to performing and after a second Gerard picks himself back up and leaps into the crowd before one of the security guys can usher him down and he still feels like he’s floating.

He doesn’t get back up on stage; it’s not like he could ask Bert for his number in the middle of a concert, right? Right. They’re either going to meet backstage or maybe they’re going to collab or, or, maybe they will never see each other again (‘Shut the fuck up Gerard you’re literally touring together’ His logical side tells him) but even if that’s the case, so what? It’s not like he just met the love of his life or anything. Ha.

He might be panicking a little.

Later that day, before he had time to change out of his blood splattered clothes (He thinks he might just keep them for the show, the red adds a certain element to the whole look…), he’s just wandering around when he comes across one of the billboards showing messages from fans and really just anyone who submits something via text message.

‘MCR rox my soxx’ He reads and smiles. Next up is a longer message. ‘Bleeding dude uknowho I choked meet me @10 bhind mainstg luv bert’.

Oh. Okay then. That’s definitely him, right? Gerard grins and touches the bruises starting to form on his neck.  
It seems like Bert wasn’t the only one who left an impression.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated! Thanks for reading :D


End file.
